


To Be A King

by SpaceAsthmatic



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Advice, Cute Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, New King probelms ya know, Sort Of, The Three Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: Going from Dunedin Cheifton to King of Gondor is no small step, especially when you're afraid you're going to have to learn, decide, solve, and do everything on your own.





	To Be A King

The clouds swirling above him matched his sour mood, drenching Gondor in darkness and shadow. It is not often he gets to see this city from this angle, or any angle, if he were to be quite honest. Every time he turned around somebody needed something from him, or more often several people needed several things from him at once. Being Chieftain of the Dunedain had been nothing like this. 

 

All he could think about was how one wrong decision on his part could have terrible consequences for everyone. 

 

It was for this reason he had climbed as high up as was reasonable for a mortal to climb, had he been Legolas the ending of the staircase would not have deterred him from climbing higher yet still. Chances were, the elf had already done just that, for he did not do well in cities of any kind, but especially ones of stone. Aragorn was fairly certain he had not seen the elf completely still in weeks, he always seemed to be  _ looking  _ for something. All it did was remind him that even his closest friend would not be able to stay here with him for much longer to help, he was miserable here. 

 

But the idea of Legolas no longer being here filled him with great anxiety, it felt as if the only reason he had any idea what he was doing at all was that of the Woodland Prince’s help and guidance. Thranduil had not raised a fool. An annoyingly merry, attention span deprived, ball of sarcastic energy perhaps, but not a fool.  

 

“Hello,  _ mellon-nin _ ”

 

The voice had been bright and friendly but had been so unexpected it startled him enough to make him jump. Legolas, having obviously gotten the reaction he desired, grinned broadly from where he crouched on the railing of the wall. 

 

“Hello, Legolas.” Aragorn contemplated telling him to get off the railing but figured Gimli would do the exact same thing when he finally appeared, and Legolas was more likely to listen to the dwarf anyways. He had learned long ago that you were either born with the quality to reason with the elf, or you were not. Gimli, it seemed, had somehow been born with an abundance of it.   

 

“See Gimli, I told you he would be up here! And you accused me of forcing you to climb ‘into the sky’ for no reason.”

 

Currently, the dwarfs only response was an irritated groan echoing up the stairwell. It was a well-known fact that Gimli liked his feet as close to the solid ground as he could get them, and he did not consider shabby human stonework a good enough substitute. 

 

Aragorn was a bit touched that the dwarf had climbed up all this way just to seek him out, “Why are you here? How did you even know _ I  _ was here?”

 

“You were not at dinner, or anywhere else we could find. Even my trees could not tell me which way you had gone, the only place the trees do not see is up.”

 

“So far up,” Gimli grumbled, finally making it to the top of the stairs. Somehow he managed to look both pale and flushed at the same time. “Legolas are you mad? Of course you are. Get down from there! How you have survived thus far in life is beyond me.” 

 

Legolas had clearly been expecting this reaction and leapt down from the railing with a merry laugh, earning him another grumble. He disappeared from view for a moment and reappeared with what appeared to be the dinner Aragorn had missed in a basket. 

 

Gimli settled himself on top of a nearby stone breathing heavily, “It isn't good to miss dinner when one has already missed lunch.”

 

“Gimli is right Estel, your father has taught you better than this.” 

 

It always amused him how the elf sometimes used his names interchangeably, Aragorn and Estel. Sometimes he was convinced that Legolas didn’t know he did it, other times it seemed as if he did it to make a point. Sometimes, with elves, you might never know. 

 

He hadn't missed dinner because he wasn't hungry, so Aragorn eagerly reached for the food. “Don’t tell my brothers.”

 

“Only if you tell us what is bothering you so much.” Legolas made as if to sit on top of the wall again but Gimli nearly hissed at him in warning, and so he settled for sitting on the ground across from his friends with his back against the wall. 

 

“You drive a hard bargain Thranduilion,” He muttered around a mouthful of bread, “I have just been feeling overwhelmed and overcrowded. I’ll be fine.” 

 

“Well, of course you will be fine. Gimi and I have not kept you alive this long for you to go to the earth the moment you actually  _ get  _ the crown. Arwen has to at least see you in it first before you die.” 

 

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.” 

 

“Then what did you mean?” 

 

Aragorn contemplated throwing a rock as his friends head, knowing his heightened reflexes would allow him to dodge the blow easily. It was Legolas’ annoying way of forcing him to elaborate on his thoughts more, something he was not known for doing willingly. If the elf misinterpreted his words and meanings long enough Aragorn would eventually be forced to correct him and explain himself fully. 

 

He didn’t throw a rock as his head, but settled for a deep frown and a loud groan, “Legolas.” 

 

“Ara-” 

 

Gimli snapped his finger and pointed at Legolas, who surprisingly fell silent immediately. The two of them held eye contact for a moment, Aragorn knew they talked when they did that. Somehow. He had no idea what was ever said nor how it was communicated but the two had gotten very good at it over the past year or so. 

 

As soon as the dwarf finally figured out the reason Legolas was so quiet, especially among mortal men, was mostly was due to his painful shyness, and not any sort of dislike, he had appointed himself the designated speaker for the both of them. However, that meant getting Legolas’ opinion of things without actually making him talk. 

 

Aragorn truly did wish to be there when Thranduil met Gimli, for the dwarf had taken such good care of his son.

 

Legolas shrugged and the two broke eye contact so that Gimli could turn his attention to the man, “You are worried about when we leave.” 

 

When they leave. Not if. 

 

“Yes.” Aragorn paused, trying to think of how to word his swirling thoughts. In the end, he settled with a lame, “I can’t do it alone,” before shoving a massive amount of food into his mouth. 

 

Legolas looked remarkably unconcerned, “Then I suppose it is a good thing you are a King then.” 

 

He blinked, “What?” 

 

“Aragorn, do you have any idea how many people it takes to help my father run Greenwood?”

 

He thought he had, or at least had a good idea. 

 

“Galion alone counts as at least three men, me or one of my seconds, an entire council of elves, a group of fierce friends, and everybody else in the kingdom. Your father also, occasionally.”

 

“Lad.” Gimli reminded, not always having the patience to let Legolas get to the point himself. 

 

Legolas had long since grown used to this, “Nobody expects you to know everything. They just expect you to listen to their opinions and ideas, and if you think something is a better solution that's fine. But you don't have to come up with every solution to every problem. I can guarantee you already that somebody is going to ask you a question, and you aren't even going to understand what they are saying. But you have to trust somebody somewhere does, and they’ll know what to do, and they’ll help you.” 

 

No, Thranduil definitely did not raise a fool. 

 

“And.” Gimli promoted, clearly expecting there to be more and Aragorn briefly wondered if they had already discussed this earlier. 

 

“And it is not as if me and Gimli are leaving tomorrow. If you think I am leaving before your wedding you should get your brothers to check on your concussion again.” Clearly having spoken his piece, Legolas's eyes wandered upwards to watch the swirling clouds. 

 

“Now eat your dinner.” 

 

Obediently Aragorn resumed eating his picnic-style dinner, as Legolas agreed casually, “I think that is a good idea, unless you want to eat it in the rain.” 

 

Aragorn had yet heard very few voices in his long life that sounded more betrayed than Gimli’s, “You’re going to make me climb down from this cursed thing in the  _ rain?” _


End file.
